…. Not great odds, but handleable with surprise….

But how to keep the surprise…?

Charlotte’s wrist twists and tugs in my hand. I grab, but she’s gone, running, heading for the darkness beyond the farmyard, as though she is trying to escape into the night. There are yells and shouts, pursuing figures, the sound of running feet echoing into the darkness….

…. And I stand, cursing under my breath, fists raised to empty air as my Jade-Eyes sets the distraction which she wanted, and I forbade.

*****

Five Years Ago

He sits in an armchair by the fireside, a teapot, cup and saucer and a small jug of milk on the table to his side.

The room is warm and comfortable, homely, with framed photos displayed on a mantle. One is old, monochrome ageing to yellow of a young couple, smiling and arm-in-arm. Another is of a young red-haired girl.

Mr Kalkowski moves slowly, his hair silver and cheeks sunken, but his eyes are bright and dark behind the spectacles.

He takes the cup, sighing with enjoyment as he takes his first sip of morning tea, then unfolds the newspaper, shaking it to settle it to a comfortable reading position.

And as he sees the headline, he goes still.

Child Slavery Scandal - Children's Home Linked to Sex Market

Reports are emerging of the escape of up to eighty children from the Blessingmoors Children’s Home. Speculation is rife that the children were trafficked from countries worldwide and were destined for the sex market and labour gangs….

He reads the article carefully, drinking his tea. Then he pours himself another cup and re-reads the article.

Breathing deeply, he sits back in his chair, fingers steepled.

After a while, he stands, walking carefully to his desk. He takes out a pad of paper and a pen and in a neat and careful hand, begins to write.

Dear Jenny,

I do not know when or if this letter will find you.

I am writing to you now because I have read today in the newspaper of the scandal which has broken from the 'home' in which you were incarcerated prior to your life here….

He continues to write for some time….

*****

Five Years Ago

“What the fuck's happening, Bech?”

“Sir, we have a situation here.”

“Situation? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“There has been a breakout, sir, from Blessingmoors.”

“Ah, crap. Well find the kid and haul him back.”

isn’t a single escapee. It's all

A pause.

slow. “Did I hear you correctly,

sir. All

long silence on

Bech. How the

what I’m hearing, there was some kind

the hell was on security? I’ll have their balls

in custody. Every one of them that hasn’t made a run for it. Hilda is under arrest

your own position, Bech? Can they trace her back to

sir. I was never more than a voice on the line to her. So long as I keep my head down, no-one has

serious is the situation over

deep breath.

“What about Jennifer?”

Bech is startled. “She’s where she’s always

get her out of the

situation, this

fucking told, Bech. I’m on my way now. I want her there and available

“Sir, where are you?”

I'm in Juba on my way back, in what

on your usual passport.

to get another passport from? They're in the

I have an ID, visa and so on made

corrupt as it comes. It’s why I’m

the photo to me and I’ll deal with the

in touch,

*****

Richard

twists from James’ grip and

he hisses, but she’s gone,

a study in rage and frustration, standing, fists

not going to sit down for a

to pay

catches up

When…

… not if….

that thought from my head, knowing that what she has done,

in a

…. Tactfully though….

a

and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to punch me, then he reins himself

darkness beyond

So quickly?

She outran them before….

had Elizabeth

let herself be

the beyond, Charlotte, arms held at both sides,

light washing from inside, the figure of Klempner leans against the doorjamb, all nonchalance. “Back inside with

she’s marched back into the farmhouse, the door closes and we three are left, safe and

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